Phormio: Prologue

The Old Bard finding it impossibleTo draw our Poet from the love of verse,And bury him in indolence, attemptsBy calumny to scare him from the stage;Pretending that in all his former playsThe characters are low, and mean the style;Because he ne'er describ'd a mad-brain'd youth,Who in his fits of frenzy thought he sawA hind, the dogs in full cry after her;Her too imploring and beseeching himTo give her aid.--But did he understandThat, when the piece was first produc'd, it ow'dMore to the actor than himself its safety,He would not be thus bold to give offense.--But if there's any one who says, or thinks,"That had not the Old Bard assail'd him first,Our Poet could not have devis'd a Prologue,Having no matter for abuse;"--let suchReceive for answer, "that although the prizeTo all advent'rers is held out in common,The Veteran Poet meant to drive our BardFrom study into want: He therefore choseTo answer, though he would not first offend.And had his adversary but have prov'dA generous rival, he had had due praise;Let him then bear these censures, and reflectOf his own slanders 'tis the due return.But henceforth I shall cease to speak of him,Although he ceases not himself to rail."But now what I'd request of you, attend:To-day I bring a new play, which the GreeksCall Epidicazomenos; the Latins,From the chief character, name Phormio:Phormio, whom you will find a parasite,And the chief engine of the plot.--And now,If to our Poet you are well inclin'd,Give ear; be favorable; and be silent!Let us not meet the same ill fortune nowThat we before encounter'd, when our troopWas by a tumult driven from their place;To which the actor's merit, secondedBy your good-will and candor, has restor'd us.